


D: Drengr

by XX_CALIBRE



Series: Pykja Vænt Um [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27737881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XX_CALIBRE/pseuds/XX_CALIBRE
Summary: Jealousy filled Vili’s soul like poison. A poison of which was Eivor’s remedy.
Relationships: Eivor/Vili
Series: Pykja Vænt Um [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024777
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	D: Drengr

_Mine._

His tongue, moist and hot, licks the pattern Eivor’s tattoo took. His nails dig into skin, almost breaking flesh. He keeps Eivor grounded. Seated. Underneath him as he thrusts once, twice, thrice. So delicious, sweet, delicate—his noises. “How lewd you are, love.” Vili chuckles, soft and dark. He feels each spasm, each shake.

Eivor on his hands and knees—never did he let anyone see anymore. So submissive of a Jarl. So submissive of a Wolf-kissed man who has crowned Kings.

Vili’s nails mark angry, red lines along the length of Eivor’s arms, chest.

Then did his digits catch Eivor’s freshly cut hair and he tugs, earning himself a gasp. A moan. Something of a sound too shameless for pure ears. Vili’s eyes went dark in an instant, full of lust when he pulls Eivor’s head back to whisper in his ear. “Mind doing me a favour, love?” His voice, guttural. Deep. “ _G_ _row this out_.”

It was when Eivor sees Vili’s face, he knows Vili’s watching.

Watching for his reaction at every pound and thrust of his hips. Gods, it needs to stop but it hurts so good. Eivor’s walls go slick and clench, begging for more—hanging on that fine line of threaded reality. Eivor’s arms go tight around Vili’s neck, and his nails carve crescents into Vili’s skin. He gasps, throwing his head back in a flurry when Vili lifts and goes further inside.

It’s all white noise now, and heated breaths of heavy pants. His tongue hangs loose, words swinging. Vili chuckles. Oh, how he chuckles. A darkness looms over Vili, over his face. His eyes were bright. Hot. Wild. “Mine.”

Vili never speaks. But when he does, the world stops and spins. “Utter perfection you are, Wolf-kissed. But let me remind you for one last time.” A thrust, a hefty thrust that could tear muscle. “That you belong to _me_.”

Jealousy filled Vili’s soul like poison. A poison of which was Eivor’s remedy.

“Who do you belong to, Eivor Jarl?” Vili dares asks, wrapping Eivor’s grown out hair around his digits. As he tugs on the gathered strands of golden locks, Vili thrusts with a vengeance. “I want you to say it.”

_Yours._


End file.
